"Go ahead, drink," I pushed the mead I already smacked down on the table to her. "It's good mead. Don't let me think I wasted my money."

She gave a look of satisfaction at (and probably the knowledge of) my reply, and gripped the handle tightly, downsliding the mead into her throat.

I got all this stinking mead from the mine. That was annoying, packing all these bottles, making sure they wouldn't break. But here, the mead bottles were as hearty as the people.

"I'm guessing it's good?" She nodded at my question, and since was done with that, asked for another. Asked me. Didn't even ask the bartender.

"Sure," I paid her five coin and watched her gulp down the next. I wouldn't mind carrying along a drunk housecarl with me - I already told you I wanted her dead. But something about this desire to drink a liquid...showed me nothing short of a glutton on food, and was rather interesting to watch. "Don't you get ulcers from that stuff?"

She only talked once she set down her tankard, the new one, of course. "I'm used to it. Nords drink for a living." Brenuin, 'my favorite drinking buddy', came to mind, and how I usually flipped him a coin from every adventure, when I could remember to. Lately I've been keeping my money to myself, though. Drunkards seemed so lively, and so...nice.

Might as well relax, I took the shin guard-boots of my feet and let my elven dogs breathe some air. We occupied two certain seats in the corner since this meadery, not too far from Whiterun, I hoped, was small enough to not accommodate an actual bar counter, just once for retailing merchandise.

She was literally on her third tankard - "Lydia, goodness, calm down."

She tapped it on the table. The mead-keeper smiled, "We're drinking the mead we sold you to be a little lenient (and that we obviously stole from the baskets outside his store, she forgot to add)," she said, obviously meaning it for me as justification. I eyed the empty bottles evily.

"Did you just down three bottles of Honeymead?"

She burped, I cut my eyes at her, and she frowned at me, from the burning sensation I guess. "One does not simply drink one bottle of Honningbrew Mead." Well, Honeymead for short, I always say. Sounds better than saying the whole name out. By the time I'd do that, she'd have gulped a tankard of it alrready. I should take her mead bottle tops and pretend they're mine so I can seem less literate about this stuff...

"It's got moonsugar in it, doesn't it?" I added it into the conversation.

"Nah, you sniffed the rest of it earlier today."

My ears, with the slight mobility they had, shifted downward in disappointment. "Nah, you don't really know me, do you?"

She looked at me, concerned, as if something had fallen and cracked me in the head and injured my brain. "It was a joke."

I huffed. "Lydia, I don't joke about drugs."

"You just - well, why?" She gave it up.

"Another one for -" the keeper started, ignoring our fiery conversation -

"-my fair lady," I interrupted him, thinking of Olfidia Grey-Mane and mocking the old woman.

"Yes," she burped her answer to him. I smacked my head.

"You're gonna drown in alcohol, and I'm not going to be blamed for waterboarding you, Lydia. You'll be completing half my plan, unknowingly."

"Good." After a few moments of silence, and tapping fingers on the oak surface of the table, she responded with irritated eyes, if that can be an emotion of the eyes, "Why do you hate me?"

I bursted out laughing, the real original, genuine one, not even being guilty for it. It's a matter of time you asked. "Because you stink like a white gal."

The man slapped the drink on the counter and saved the hand-gesture of begging money since he'd might as well tally up everything for later. She drunk the mead, staring at me even more seriously. Ugh, "If you really want to know, you wretched Nord," I began, my thoughts springing to my mouth, "It's because you're the only person that ever promised my protection. I," I continued, "was a protector of my family early on, and you taking my position doesn't satisfy me much. It also only makes me more wary of you. Of if you have my interests in mind," I pointed to her, "- say no."

"N-no," she said, unsure of where I was getting at.

"If you're doing this for some other motive -" my finger continued to stay pointed at her as I ignored the guy standing next to us for an answer.

"No." I raised a brow at that.

"If you...want to off me and take everything I have, or most likely send me to the authorities -"

"I would've done that, already," she cut in.

"...well, if you actually want to do this..."

My finger vibrated with my lack of strength, and eventually wavered so much I let it down. "Desraim," she began after that questioning, "I am loyal and very happy to be so to you. It is my duty, I have no other motives, however, after yesterday...I just feel that maybe you should get some therapy before we continue going. I wouldn't want to be the end of you, because of me not alarming you to take this seriously."

I scratched my chin. Seriously to me, what was her therapy, mead? "Whyyy don't you need it?"

Lydia folded her arms and sat back, and when the mead guy came at that point again, she waved him away, and the drink. This must've been a serious moment for her - from trustworthy legend, Nords aren't too quick to give up their mead. "Desraim. I'm going to ask you one more time...to settle down. Get a house. Think to yourself for a while. You've been through a lot. You have magnanimous powers. And particularly, I can care less about this scavenging crap," she kicked one of our loot bags hurtfully in the side. "I just want you to be safe and happy. And that's why I'm your housecarl."

I really thought about her thoughts. Safety. Peace. Pleasure. Things that only my parents could wish for me, she did. However, did my parents truly wish that, or only let me choose it, because their paths were really not full of pleasure...I mean, beheadings weren't neccessarily pleasurable, but what about everything else - I mean, let me stay on track. Ugh, I hate it when I do that. What would I want - just neglecting my parents' views for a while?

I puckered my lips, "Well, happy eh?" I replied, deciding. I stood, then, stretching, giving her time to think of what response I was maybe thinking about, though I knew she had the wrong response in her head. "Let me just take yeh to...nowhere. We can easily...get somewhere from that -"

"And run into another bandit fight," she finished, nonchalant. I didn't look at her; my eyes said hello to the floor beneath us, instead. I knew she was...danggit...right, right.

"Uh - I like this stuff, okay," I cracked my neck with my hand, then did the other side, too, all the while hoping she could understand. "I hope you do too, someday," I finished, not even waiting for her as I grabbed my bags and left. What a weak response from me! Because, 1), I was as tired, sad, and crazy as heck and 2), I wasn't making this any better for myself, so yeah, I couldn't help it this time.

Or ever.

Oh, well, hopefully fate finds me like it did the Orc. I mean, not suicidally, of course.

Walking into a bandit's camp wasn't suicide, either, but it's just what happened, travelling Skyrim - one has to have skills that will help him/her/other survive. And I was willing to practice them on some of these unworthy foes.

Redoran's Retreat could've been a hot spot for us if we weren't so not in the mood for solving puzzles and dusting the spiderwebs out of crypts. Plus, I didn't want to stir its draughrs from their beauty rest, yet. The land grew bumpier and harder beneath us, and a river formed on our left when I suddenly panicked. I whipped around, searching for the enemies that I had not-so-immediately spotted in the distance. My body tensed, and I noticed my hands had already upon a hilt. I was going to taste real, dirty blood this time, and I let the blood course through my veins and build up my muscles like a swelling would fill with blood.

Five, no, well, three. What can I say, my eyesight isn't terribly perfect in the dark, but Lydia circled around me, trying to find that many of bandits too, until we both saw them run on the path near this hill we happened to mount mid-walk in leisure, and we trotted down there, ready for the kill.

Those bandits sure didn't come near me, as if they'd not seen me. So I ran to them and stifled a shout, because maybe I could sneak up on them and make an instant kill since Lydia was screaming at me in her little whisper to shut my mouth. As I got closer to what I believed was the direct location of the bandits, I bent to a crouch, and once again my bad sneaking skills made me a detection, and the person under my radar began to speak. One of three people. That was quite different, so I stilled the axe in my hand, staring, however, at the dead one, on the ground.

Random claimer: Guys, this Wattpad has a right-to-left typing direction! Hoot for the Japanese! XD Thanks for reading! More to come, like canon stuff, lol...I've been reading too much Slayer and Mage (Skyrim fanfics that definitely don't just write gameplay, hence the flowery plot and stuff I've been elaborately stuffing into my fanfic, you like? Yes, more actual plot, and more not). Man, this is becoming true fiction from a fan, man, interlaced with exact truth, and I like it! And the Orc, the meadery visitation, and this encounter just described just happened, but, we all know it didn't take all of Mundas (or did it O.o) to happen and also that...it wasn't as plot-driven. However, it's a RPG, y'all, so it really could've been for whatever the person playing it (particularly Skyrim V) wanted it to be. So succumb to my writing. He. Thank Bethesda. & GN and read later when I update more. Please. :DDD

P.S. I had to add that Bard Rap by Dan Bull (the animation is Skyrim's of course, but the rap his). That was stinking awesome. Magnifico! And Uthgerd was even in there *snooty sniff* Oh, well. Desraim ain't at the Bannered Mare right now, anyway! Who knows if she'll be there when Desraim goes back? Let's not focus on Uthgerd, uggg, Desraim is so over her, so yeah...moving on. :)